Mara McBain

by McCade's Way

  “Perhaps if you asked him nicely, he might be willing to lighten his work load and pass off one of us to you,” Adrienne suggested, indicating herself with a flourish of her hand. “If you are willing to take on such a challenge, of course.”

  “I have to admit you seem like you’d be a handful,” Cole said, looking her up and down. “What do you say, big brother? Can I take the lovely Miss Lachance off your hands?”

  Trey rolled his eyes at the play, but moved his left arm forward to hand her off. “If she’ll have ya.”

  Adrienne laughed and took Cole’s arm. Gen squeezed Trey’s bicep as they followed the other couple across the street. He looked down at her and winked.

  Gen stretched her back and stepped out of the boutique. Adri was paying for her purchases at last. That woman made shopping an endurance event. She took a deep breath and looked up and down the sidewalk for her husband’s black Stetson. The crisp air was welcome after the cloying smell of perfumes that had permeated the small shop.

  “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

  She jumped and spun to face a well dressed man with a slick smile. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head, biting back a polite refusal. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she craned her neck, praying for a glimpse of Trey’s broad shoulders or Cole’s smiling face.

  “Aw now, come on, doll. There ain’t no reason to be shy. I’m just trying to be friendly is all. Why don’t you let me take you back inside and buy you something pretty, or perhaps a cup of coffee to take off some of the chill?”

  She reached for the door, and his hand closed over the handle. Trey’s warning whispered in her ear: If I catch your eye straying, you’ll both regret it. Her frightened gaze dropped to the walkway. Her heart thundered in her ears. She backed away. Why had she left the store? Couldn’t he see the ring on her finger? She turned the beautiful emerald and diamond nervously.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked as the door shifted under his hand. He stepped aside and held it open as Adrienne exited with bags in hand.

  “Well thank you, sir,”Adri purred, sidling over to Gen with a school girl giggle. “And just what’re you doing out here unchaperoned? He’s kind of cute.”

  Fear swept over her at the words, muffling the world in cotton. She fought the dizzy feeling, mutely shaking her head at the man as he stepped closer and reached for her arm.

  “Are you all right, honey? You look awfully pale.”

  Gen lurched back, nearly falling in her effort to keep the man’s hands off her. Adrienne caught her hand, steadying her. Confusion clouded the songbird’s beautiful features.

  “Gen? What’s wrong? Are you feeling all right?”

  “Let me buy you ladies a cup of tea,” he said smoothly.

  She backed away. Things were going so well between her and Trey now. She couldn't afford this. She didn't want to lose him. She stumbled slightly, cursing the fear that was making her shake. The thought of the cold fury and hurt in his pale eyes made her sick. Another blow like that would destroy the big man. Not that he had that worry with her, but would he believe that? She shook her head. He’d been burned and some wounds never heal. If he caught her talking to another man, Adrienne would be sent home and she’d never be allowed to leave the farm again.

  “I’m going to the truck,” she whispered and turned away, not waiting to see if Adri followed.

  “I’ve never seen hair this particular shade, Gen.”

  Shying away from the intimate whisper, Gen shook her head and walked faster. He crowded close, his fingers closing around her arm.

  “This isn’t flattering anymore. You need to back off. You’re making her uncomfortable,” Adrienne snapped, catching up with them.

  “That’s not very polite, Gen. Why don’t we sit down and talk?”

  Gen jerked her arm away from the man, fighting the urge to scream. Her purse strap caught and she wrenched it loose, stumbling.

  Trey closed the tailgate and dusted off his hands. Glancing at his watch, he headed down to get the girls. He hadn’t taken more than half-a-dozen steps when he spotted Gen. Her copper hair shimmered in the sunlight. He frowned as a man jostled her. Fear flitted across her pale face, and she flinched away. The man’s lips were moving, but he was too far away for Trey to hear what he said. Then, the son-of-a-bitch grabbed her arm. His eyes narrowed.

  Shouldering through the crowd, fury thrummed through his veins. She tried to jerk away and her purse caught. She spun around, crashing into Trey’s chest. His arms wrapped around her protectively, and she didn’t bother to look up. Her nose pressed into his flannel shirt and her arms slipped under his coat to encircle his waist. He held her for a moment before easing her back. Stroking his hands over her face to assure she was okay, he tucked her behind him.

  “I’m beginning to think you’ve got a death wish, Dean,” he said softly.

  “Trey,” the other man greeted nervously and started to back away.

  Trey prowled after him. “What is it about women that belong to other men that you find so irresistible, hmm?”

  “I never slept with Catherine, Trey. I swear. I know what you heard, but it’s a lie. She asked me to take a few pictures of her, but that was it. I—I had no idea this girl was with you. She has unusual hair and nice legs. I just wanted to take some pictu—”

  Trey’s fist cut the man’s words short. Sprawling into the gutter, Dean tried to scramble to his feet, spitting blood and bits of teeth. A hard kick planted his face in the ground. A muffled sob bubbled from his lips. He tried to curl in on himself as Trey reached down and hauled him to his feet.

  “What’s the matter, slick? Wasn’t she impressed with your greased back hair and your Hollywood mustache? What’d she say to you, huh? She didn’t look too eager for your company if you ask me. Why don’t you tell me the story, boy?”

  “She didn’t say anything. I didn’t know, Trey. She didn’t tell me she was yours,” Dean stammered, blood and tears spilling down his face to stain the front of his white dress shirt.

  Trey pulled him close, his voice dropping to a rumble meant for Dean’s ears only.

  “Stay away from anything that’s mine. Next time I have to have this conversation with you, will be the last time.”

  Flinging the photographer from him, Trey turned in search of his wife. Pale and shaking like a leaf, she sat on the curb with Adrienne and a couple of women from the church fussing over her. Concern washed the rage away. Shouldering through the growing crowd with muttered apologies, he squatted down in front of her. Her fingers were like ice as he took her hands in his. She stared at their hands, her grey eyes wide and haunted.

  “Look at me, darlin',” he coaxed.

  Her eyes closed. A soft sob broke her lips, and she pulled away a hand to cover her mouth.

  “The poor girl has been through enough. You’re frightening her.”

  Ignoring the biddy’s shrewish snap, he shifted on the balls of his feet, leaning closer to his wife.

  “It’s okay, Gen. I’m here now,” he whispered, gently tilting her chin up. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, reaching for him.

  Opening his arms, he pulled her into a crushing hug, rocking back on his heels at her surge to get close.

  “Shh, darlin'. It’s okay. I took care of him. He won’t bother you again.”

  “Trey, why don’t you bring your wife out of the cold and away from prying eyes? My house is just around the corner.”

  His head snapped up, but his face softened at the familiar face. His mother’s dearest friend smiled sympathetically and stretched out a gloved hand in invitation.

  “A warm drink will do us all good.”

  He gave a curt nod and stood, pulling Gen to her feet.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded tightly, but clung to his arm. Wrapping her against his side, he gathered Adrienne with his other hand. He looked around for Cole, but still didn’t see him. He frowned.

  �
�Matt,” he called to a neighbor’s boy. “Are you busy?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do me a favor and see if you can find my brother. Tell him we’ll be at Mrs. Calloway’s if he needs me.”

  The kid took the coin Trey slipped him and raced off with a grin. Shaking his head at the boy, he turned and followed Maureen down the street.

  Hands still trembling, Gen cupped the hot tea gratefully. She could hear the rumble of Trey’s voice in the other room, but couldn’t make out the words. Their hostess laughed and Gen shifted uncomfortably. She jumped when Adrienne squeezed her arm.

  “I’m so sorry. I thought it was just harmless flirting at first. Why did you put up with the moron? It’s not like you to be timid.”

  “Harmless,” Gen muttered, shaking her head. “You don’t understand, Adri. Trey is…I didn’t dare even tell the schmuck to get lost.”

  Comprehension dawned on her friend’s beautiful face and then warred with disbelief, pity, and finally irritation. “You have to be joking,” she said, but snorted at Gen’s silence with an expressive roll of her eyes. “The cowboy told me he had a jealous streak six miles wide, but unbelievable.”

  Gen shushed her, eyes darting to the doorway. The noise that came from Adrienne this time was rude with disbelief.

  “Do you have to walk three paces behind his Lordship as well?”

  “Adri, please,” Gen begged.

  “That man needs to step out of the 1800’s. You are not chattel to be ordered about at a snap of his manly fingers!”

  "I'd dial the preaching back a notch or two, darlin'. It's hard to spout poison without ingesting a drop or two yourself.”

  Gen winced at the rumble of her husband’s voice behind them. She frowned as Adri paled. She’d never seen her friend look so shaken.

  “She didn’t mean anything by it, Trey. She’s—she’s just protective,” she stammered.

  “She needs to remember that I am too,” Trey murmured, stroking the back of her head tenderly, but his gaze was hard on Adri.

  Adrienne swallowed, wetting her lips before offering Trey a shaky smile. “She’s a lucky girl to have two people love her so much, and as fired up as I get about equality, Gen seems to find your caveman style comforting.”

  “I can’t deny I find his Alpha male attitude reassuring and umm…attractive,” Gen said blushing as their hostess joined them with a tray of refreshments.

  “He takes after his father,” Maureen said with a pensive smile. “Thomas was very much a man’s man. Like Trey, he had little patience for society or fashion. Most Mamas around here had given up matching one of their daughters to that McCade brother. It was quite the surprise when he came back from Texas with a bride.”

  Gen smiled at the older woman. “You knew his parents well then?”

  “I grew up with Thomas, and Heather and I became very close when he brought her back here. I was so surprised when he came back at all, but what a blessing it was for me. He brought me my best friend.”

  “You didn’t think that he’d come back?”

  “The rest of the family moved away while Thomas was in Texas, but he didn’t care. To him this was always home. Heather grew to love it here as well. She was so happy and proud when Trey came home to take over the family farm. She had such a soft spot for her eldest.”

  Gen peeked back at her husband and smiled at the color marking his handsome features.

  “Are you feeling better, darlin'?” he asked, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

  “Much. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just got a little lightheaded for some reason. I feel ridiculous,” Gen said shyly. “I’ve never felt like that unless I went a long while without eating.”

  “You didn’t eat much this morning,” Trey said, worry creasing his brow.

  “I’ll be more careful,” she promised.

  “You better be. There’s no call for it in my house.”

  “She had a fright. Don’t be too harsh on the girl, Trey,” Maureen chided softly.

  “She needs to use her head for something other than growing pretty hair,” he grumbled.

  Gen watched Maureen smother a smile.

  “She has beautiful hair. Heather would’ve approved.”

  Gen leaned into his hand as Trey stroked her head. His next words made her heart swell. “This one would’ve been the daughter she always wanted.”

  Brushing out her hair, Gen’s gaze stayed on the reflection of the closed door behind her. Her recovery at Maureen’s had turned into an afternoon of visiting and reminiscing, culminating in staying for supper. She had loved listening to the stories. It was obvious Maureen had been very close with the family. She had an easy, almost motherly way with Trey and Cole. The affection Trey held the woman in had touched her heart. It had been late by the time the four of them had piled back into the truck. She had offered to help with chores, but Trey had told her to get ready for bed and promised he’d be up shortly.

  The brush faltered as the image in the mirror changed, and her husband stepped into the open doorway. He paused there, blue eyes meeting grey. She wet her lips as he leaned his shoulder into the door frame, his hand hitching on his belt buckle.

  “Don’t let me interrupt,” he rumbled, motioning for her to continue.

  Her hand trembled as she lifted the heavy brush. She tried to find the comfort she usually took in the repetitive motion, but her slender form shook with the tension humming through her. His face was impassive. What thoughts swirled behind those pale eyes? He’d been attentive since the incident, but this was the first moment they’d had alone. Had he believed the photographer? Knowing that Trey suspected the slick talking man of sleeping with his first wife made Gen’s stomach tighten in a ball of dread. She gasped as she fumbled the brush.

  It crashed to the floor, sounding loud in the silence of the house. Her heart pounded under the hand that had unwittingly flown to her chest at the sound. She froze as Trey pushed off the frame, kicking the door shut behind him and closing in behind her. He bent, retrieving the silver implement. She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her. Why did everything look like a weapon in a man’s hand? Yanking her thoughts from her mother’s heavy wooden brush, she searched his face. His eyes didn’t meet her gaze. She jumped as he slowly dragged the bristles through her hair.

  A little of the tension eased from her as his hand smoothed the long strands in the wake of the brush. A low rumble that sounded like approval rolled from his throat and he continued the rhythmic glide. Released from her worries by his gentle touch, she let the day play through her thoughts. He’d warned her that Catherine had left behind some triggers and she hadn’t understood what he meant at the time. Today it had fallen into place.

  Her betrayal had cut him deep. Things that threatened those scabs raised the big man’s ire in a hurry. A person’s past colored them. Just as she would always cringe at a loud male voice and the smell of cheap whiskey, Trey might always bristle at any male in her vicinity. She wasn’t sure how long he brushed her hair, but it felt heavenly. She felt boneless by the time he stopped. He smiled at her in the mirror, and she held out her hand.

  “Your turn?”

  His smile turned a tad sheepish, and a hand scrubbed across the back of his neck as he glanced toward the door. Finally, he turned back with a little shrug and moved to his side of the bed.

  “Let me get undressed first.”

  She slipped onto the bed. The light played over the ripple of his heavy muscles as he stripped, and her fingers tingled with a desire to map the hills and valleys of her husband’s physique. If he could read her thoughts, he’d know he had no worry of another man turning her head. He tossed pajama bottoms across the foot of the bed. A pajama shirt caught in the drawer as he tried to nudge it shut with his foot and he sighed. She smiled. Her husband obviously had a dislike for them. She’d never seen him wear one. He went bare-chested or wore a simple undershirt.

  “If you aren’t going to wear them, I could make
use of them,” she said, trying not to laugh at his battle with the dresser.

  “What’re you going to do with them?” he asked, a golden brow arching in question before he snorted and shook his head, waving the question off. “Hell, what do I care? Use them for rags for all I care. It will clear up space.

  Giggling at his aggravation, she patted the bed. Ignoring his pajamas, he sat down in his underwear and flipped his ponytail at her.

  “Have at it, woman.”

  She couldn’t hold back the laughter this time. Taking the tie from his hair, she kissed between his shoulder blades. He rolled his shoulders and murmured his approval when she kissed across the broad span.

  “If you’re a good boy after I brush your hair, I’ll massage your shoulders,” she teased.

  He chuckled and looked over his shoulder with an incredulous look. “If I’m a good boy?” When she just bit her lip and giggled, he shook his head. “Get busy. When you’re done, I’ll show you that I’m all man.”

  “Do I have to brush your hair?” she asked with a little whine, kissing his back and giggling again.

  “Yep. You started this woman. Hair, shoulders, and then if you’re good you’ll get some,” he said firmly, but his lips twitched behind his mustache.

  “Yes, Trey,” she murmured sweetly and pulled the brush through his long hair so he groaned in pleasure.

  “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dropping to a basement baritone.

  Gen grinned and shivered. That voice did things to her.

  Silence hung between them as she worked all the tangles from his wavy mane. Occasionally she’d lean forward and steal a little taste of his skin, following the scoop of his shoulder blade or the ridge of his collarbone with her lips. Trey didn’t seem to mind. When she was done, she carefully pulled his gleaming hair back, weaving it into a braid. Leaning forward she kissed his ear and whispered,

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Trey fell back on the bed as she dashed out the door. Where the hell was she going? He owed her an apology, but was loath to break the playful mood they’d fallen into. He stretched his bruised right hand, wincing at the stiffness. The pretty boy’s face had just reminded him of the damage the woodpile had done. He scrubbed his other hand over his face. Gen had been tense as hell when he’d came in. He hated that fear in her eyes. He’d wanted to drop to his knees and swear to her that he’d never hurt a woman, but that little voice had cautioned against it. She’d feared him today, and she had rejected the pretty photographer’s advances. Fear could be a powerful deterrent.